Only Words
by 3iggy
Summary: A Collection of Drabble and thematic challenges over at Labyfic on dreamwidth. If you've read my stories then you know what to expect: fairydust, stars, and ninny stuff. If you've not read any of my stories...well you get the idea.
1. Chapter 1

The warmth was missing from the morning. It was a subtle thing, one that meteorologists and official beginnings and endings on calendars could not control. It had been there last night, the summer, but as Sarah stepped out onto the veranda she found it quite gone. A fickle chill had settled on the air, crisp and clean, it spoke of bonfires, flannel, and hot chocolate. Autumn had arrived without warning—and with it a letter.

The envelope which was the color of frost on newly painted leaves, a color impossible to describe let alone create, rested on the welcome mat. Shivering, Sarah stooped to retrieve it before venturing out into the cold morning. With gentle fingers she opened the impossible letter and looked over its contents. It was an invitation, albeit one without dates, directions, or details.

Yet, Sarah knew from where it had come and mostly what it entailed since there was a transference of faerie dust from the card to her fingers tips. The otherworldly particles glistened in the crisp morning sun like sequins on a ball gown. There was an unexpected flutter in her stomach reminiscent of the leaves scattering across the yard.

The ambiguous invite was most certainly a dare—a chance to risk it all. And, had the day been warm and green as she'd expected, Sarah may have had the inclination to turn her back on it, but something in the loam-scented chill of the morning had her tucking the letter into her back pocket with a sense of daring. She'd be ready.


	2. Time after Time

The tea was growing cold. Sarah reached for the dainty little china cup and took a long sip before returning it to the saucer on the coffee table. Peppermint and cinnamon, an odd but intriguing combination, cool and spicy. Her thoughts were growing sluggish as the fire crackled. The sofa was so comfortable. Sarah pulled the blanket a little tighter around her and laid a gentle hand on the top of her snoring cat's belly.

Eye-lids fluttered, Sarah's head sank to her chest and her breathing grew slow and soft.

With a start she came to her feet but those feet weren't where they belonged. A barren rooftop beneath a sky full of stars—impossible constellations—surrendered her on every side. Candles, trapped within their towering candelabras, flickered in the chilly wind. It was quiet.

The invitation.

In a frantic blur of motion Sarah searched her person. The blank square, glittering in the starlight, was still tucked into her pocket.

"I was unexpectedly pleased with your response to my little token," a quicksilver voice purred from behind her.

"I've never been one to say no to a party," Sarah said spinning around to face her host, relieved that she sounded more composed than she actually felt. What a sinister trick he had played.

"Parties, perhaps not, but me you've certainly refused," his grin was sharp. The ethereal light of the Labyrinth clung to the Goblin King giving life to his pale features. He may very well have been formed from such things as moonbeams and stardust standing there clad in silver and blue—a winter king stealing into autumn.

Sarah found her voice after a quick glance around the candlelit rooftop, "This doesn't seem like much of a party, your majesty."

"It only takes two to tango or waltz…"

"—or duel or argue, of course you could always push me off the roof of the castle and be done with it—"

"Oh, but I'm speaking of dancing," Jareth took a step closer, extended his hand and gave her a challenging smile that belied his words.

"—if I die in a dream do I die in real life—"

"Sarah, it's just a dance," Jareth's smile faltered, annoyance tugging the corners of his lips downward. Even while irritated he managed to look charming.

"A dance-floor is just another type of battleground for you and me," Sarah replied, her eyes never leaving his leather-clad hand.

"I promise not to bite," Jareth said, eyes twinkling.

The thought of his teeth skimming her skin sent shivers up her spine. "It's not your teeth that I fear, your majesty."

Obviously tired of her dallying, Jareth stepped forward and easily collected her into a perfect dance stance. Music floated softly across the rooftop as the Goblin King drew her into a waltz.

Together they moved in dizzying circles. Sarah found herself fascinated by the intricate detail of Jareth's clothing. Staring at his garments kept her from looking into his face or the blurring night sky beyond. What a pair they made, the Goblin King dressed in such otherworldly finery, and her barefoot in a Bowie t-shirt and jeans.

A smile spread across her face.

"What's this?" Jareth asked, humor dancing along his words. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"It's funny. You and Me dancing here like it's nothing. I'm just a girl asleep on a sofa in a middle-case house on an ordinary street on a regular Friday night. And, you…a fairy prince…"

"—King, my dear—"

"…Fairy King, then. You and I are…"

"—would it be so hard to say we?—"

"We are…"

"—so compatible? Graceful? Brilliant?—"

"I was going to say odd," Sarah said.

"Odd? How indignant," Jareth said as he sent her into a twirl.

"Look at us," Sarah exclaimed, breathless after having been drug back against him.

A graceful eyebrow arched skyward.

"What do you gain from this?" Sarah asked.

"I find you highly entertaining," Jareth answered.

"I'm not a circus monkey," Sarah snapped.

"Indeed," Jareth answered, spinning her out once more. This time Sarah let go of his hand, stumbling slightly.

"Sarah, we are supposed to be enjoying ourselves. Why are you being so difficult? Don't you want to have a little fun?" Jareth said, exasperated.

"This isn't fun. It's just a dream—like the last time you danced with me," Sarah narrowed her eyes. She was furious with the way her heart beat in her chest, the way her pulse raced. He had no right to affect her so.

"What do you want?" Jareth asked.

"To wake up," Sarah crossed her arms over her chest and looked out over the goblin city. It too was peaceful and quiet, beautifully bathed in moonlight. Perhaps there was a goblin curfew.

"Fine," Jareth replied. "Your wish is my command."

Sarah started to reply, but before she could utter a word she bolted upright on the sofa in her living room. The fire still crackled merrily and the cat slept beside her. The shift was jarring.

"You didn't let me finish," she growled dislodging the blanket and the hissing cat all in one angry motion.

The scratching sound of a needle striking a record halted her.

"Well, please continue," Jareth said coming around the sofa as Cyndi Lauper began to pour from the speakers of the old record player. He handed her a glass of wine as he gracefully threw himself onto her couch.

Sarah stared. The fairy king sitting on her sofa was wearing dark jeans and a button up shirt he could have been an off-duty rockstar.

"Hmm," Sarah sat back down and took a quick sip of her wine. This was most unexpected.


	3. Empire

Words: 589 (sorry)

A/N: Drabble for the Labyfic Community over at Labyfic dot dreamwidth dot org. We do short drabbles each month which give you an opportunity to really hone your short story skills. Come join us! The poem is Sylvia Plath 'The Moon and the Yew Tree"

* * *

Could you really pick a path between the stars? Sarah wondered. The girl was laying on a red flannel blanket in the overgrown backyard of the big old Victorian in which she'd grown up. The garden inhabitants—ancient rose bushes and drooping weiglia—were just beginning to decay. They stood no chance against the encroaching empire of autumn. The evening was riddled with signs of its advent.

Sarah shivered as she watched a new light appear in the sky. Picking paths would get increasing difficult as more and more stars became visible, as the world grew dark.

A sliver of twilight reflected on white wings stole her attention.

Sarah sat up and watched the owl deftly land upon the nearby branch of a friendly oak. It was quiet in the garden surrounded by shrubbery and her voice sounded like an interruption as she addressed the nightbird:

 _The moon is my mother. She is not sweet like Mary. Her blue garments unloose small bats and owls. How I would like to believe in tenderness—The face of the effigy, gentled by candles, bending, on me in particular, its mild eyes._

"I had a dream about you once," she said when the owl only shook himself in response to her recitation. She leaned back on her hands, dark hair sliding over her shoulders as she stared up at the owl who was curiously gazing down upon her.

"Are you a giver of gifts? An ender of worlds? Do you shatter time and remake it? Can you pick a path through the stars? Or move them as you wish? Do you turn worlds upside down and little girls inside out?"

The owl with graceful, careful movements came to rest on a lower branch.

"My what big eyes you have," Sarah smiled up at him. "You're an uncanny creature to come near and listen to a young woman's musings."

The owl came still closer.

Sarah smiled.

"Tell me, Great Emperor of the Night, do you lay claim to other realms as well? I do believe you may be a Tzar of Dreams, perhaps even a Winter Prince? Better yet, a Goblin King?"

The owl drifted to the ground. His light descent barely disturbed the thin layer of dry leaves.

"Perhaps you are a Rumpelstiltskin and I need only speak your true name to get what I want," Sarah leaned forward mere feet away from the lovely creature.

A shiver sent pebbles racing across every inch of her skin as she let go of the world, as she focused on the night, on the owl and the magic they were creating. It could've been her overactive imagination, but there was something strange and wonderful about this bird.

"Jareth," she whispered, her voice nearly swallowed by the crisp edges of the dark.

Between one blink and another the owl was no more. In his place was an elven man, crouching as if ready to pounce, he was all sharp points and angles, but just as fair as his feathered alter ego. His eyes were level with hers as he canted his head and his lips curled up at the corners—every inch of him marked for mischief—more imp than elf.

"Sarah," he replied.

Somewhere in the back of her mind a childish voice was telling her to back away, not run, you should never run from immortal things, but leave nonetheless. Sarah stayed where she was seated beneath the night sky ignoring her instincts. She would not back down from the Great Emperor of the Night, no matter what tricks he had in store for her. This garden was her kingdom after all.


	4. Teacher

The hazy autumn sun slants through the apartment window and I can't breathe. The light seems to worship him, sitting on the sofa near the window. It sets his cornsilk hair on fire and warms the coolness of his face. Evening certainly looks good on him. As do the unexpected jeans, expensive looking black boots and sweater.

His eyes are intent upon the instrument in his nimble hands, but I feel his awareness as I go through my comfortable rituals. Light the candles in the fireplace, plug in the lights strung over the window, turn down the dimmer switch, make the tea. Things I do every night by myself. It is so strange to have him here, in this tiny room.

He strums his fingertips along the strings of the guitar and it sends shivers up my spine.

"Stop stalling," his voice is a caress although I shouldn't think of it that way. He is here for one reason and one reason only.

"You can't learn to play if you stand there overanalyzing everything. How tedious that must be," there's a hint of an eye-roll in his voice, but my back is to him as I pour the water out of the kettle and fill the tea pot. Chamomile. I feel some tension flee just from the smell of it.

Grabbing two mugs from the counter, I carry everything to the coffee table.

He sets the guitar aside and slouches back into the minimalist lines of my sofa. There is a smirk on his face, of course.

"After all these years, you call on me to teach you such a mundane thing," he shakes his head. Does he feel as out of sorts as I do? If so he hides it better.

"Yes," I say sitting down on the other side of the couch. "I can't afford lessons with an actual person."

"Actual person? Darling, you may find that you can't afford them with me either," his gaze rakes over my purposely frumpy person. Large gray sweater, old jeans and bare feet. He never named a price. I am not in a hurry to discover what it is.

Jareth smiles as if he can read my thoughts. "Come here."

I frown in confusion and annoyance. What was I thinking asking him to be my teacher? Giving him permission to order me about? "I am here."

An eyebrow arches elegantly as he points to the space between his legs.

Heat radiates up my neck and I feel it bloom across my cheeks, but I set my tea-cup down and move to stand. He just has to torture me.

Nervously, I seat myself practically in his lap as he reaches around to pick up the guitar and set it in my hands. His chest rests against my back as he positions my hands on the strings. I am sure my heartbeat will echo through the instrument as I perch on the edge of the seat, rigid with awareness of him.

"First, you will need to learn a few chords," he says, breath warming my neck.

"I think you are taking some liberties here, couldn't you have shown me this on the other side of the sofa?" I mumble, while his hands—mercilessly ungloved— continue to position mine. He names the configurations, but I can't focus. I am never going to learn to play the guitar. But, he already knows how to play me.


	5. Hurricane

Drabble Challenge #82 Hurricane from .org

* * *

Sarah felt as if she'd ran to the edges of the world.

The wind tore at her hair, teasing tears from eyes that—even in the near dark—burned a brilliant shade of green. Her heart pounded in her chest, as loud as the surge of the sea, as the thunder overhead.

It was getting harder to breathe.

Her heart was a cracking, shattering, thing buried beneath her ribs, hiding from the truth as she fell to her knees in the sand. Beyond the point of thinking or wishing or waiting.

She was so full of wanting.

A hurricane was building beneath her skin, breaking her down, little by little as the sun sank into the western sky.

He hadn't loved her.

They never did. That wasn't the point. It was that, over and over again, she didn't love them either. Her heart poisoned anything that tried to take root or grow. It was filled with thorns and dreams of kohl rimmed eyes.

She was a disaster.

As if Sarah had gone deaf, the world quieted and all she could hear was her own struggle to draw air into her panicked lungs. The sand beneath her fingertips blackened.

Snapping her head up, Sarah sucked in a deep breath, her lungs joyfully received it.

The black sands stretched out endlessly on either side of her as fog clung to the edges of the placid water. It was hard to distinguish where the sand met the dark waves.

Sarah stood, taking in the black dress she'd worn to dinner. It was the same and different. Now there was something about it, an illusion of feathers.

"Will you ever stop fighting me?"

Sarah's head whipped around and her eyes locked with the Goblin King's. He too was dressed in black, his discordant gaze taking her measure, as his head canted to the right.

"It always come back to you doesn't it?" Sarah felt the storm raging within her find its center. Everything was silenced as her focus narrowed on the man before her.

"Did you think it'd be so easy to turn my head and then slip away?" Jareth smiled.

"You didn't love me. You don't. You can't!" Sarah rushed toward him her hands clutched in the dress and it's impossible feathers. "Let me go."

"I'm not holding you," Jareth said, whisper soft although his voice lost none of its steel.

The air charged around them. Sarah felt the hurricane in her heart break loose once more, gathering strength, threatening to rend them both in two.

"Once upon a time, there was a beautiful young girl and what no one knew was that the king of the goblins had fallen in love with the girl, and he had given her certain powers…" Jareth breathed the words between them.

"Love is a dangerous game Sarah and you made the first move. How I could do anything but what you asked of me? How could I not love you?"

Sarah let go of the dress, taking a tentative step forward, she let her fingers find the cool fabric of Jareth's shirt, she could feel the beating of his heart. "How could I not love you?" She asked in return.

Jareth grinned, taking her chin in his hand.

Sarah felt the storm begin anew as his lips found hers, once more, she couldn't quite breath.


	6. When you thought it was Safe

Drabbles writting for the Labyfic community over at Dream width dot com

The drabble topic was: Just when you thought it was safe.

* * *

Outside her window, the trees had burst into an array of color—autumn sweeping her paintbrush across the hillside. Sarah leaned against the kitchen counter, fingers wrapped around a coffee mug and smiled as she gazed out the window.

Curling her toes inside their fuzzy socks, she wondered if anything could be so peaceful. Some random acoustic playlist poured from the phone. The day was just starting, the coffee was strong, and her kingdom was great.

Of course, the subtle shift of the air in her little cottage shattered all hopes she may have been entertaining regarding a cozy day in. A book would have been nice, maybe a cheesy rom-com, but just when she'd thought it was safe…

Without turning around, Sarah set her coffee down, grabbed a second mug from the open shelf, and filled it full of coffee—black, two spoonfuls of sugar. Only after it was all ready did she turn, and hold the mug out to the Goblin King leaning against the kitchen island, before picking up her own coffee once more.

He took it without comment, seemingly perfectly at ease among the dish towels and early morning light. Dressed in green and gray she thought he appeared oddly subdued.

The Goblin King yawned, before taking a drink from her Keep Calm and Carry On mug. It seemed fitting.

"Long night?" she asked.

"Prolonged," his quicksilver voice replied as his blue eyes found hers.

Something in her chest tightened. His visits were unpredictable and thus far benign, but they always left her unsettled.

"How so?" Sarah took a sip and waited.

"Goblins," Jareth replied succinctly. "Goblin festivities to be exact."

"Tell me more," Sarah grinned.

"It involved the toe-wrestling championship," Jareth sighed.

Sarah nearly lost a mouthful of coffee, "Toe-wrestling?" She sputtered.

"I really don't want to talk about it. Suffice it to say I wasn't involved, overly much…officially, I had to observe the entire thing. It was trying, but someone has to be king."

Sarah couldn't imagine spending her nights viewing goblin toes. It sounded utterly revolting. Ok, it was probably hilarious if you had the right attitude going into it.

"Are you here in your private and personal capacity then? No kingly duties for the present?" Sarah asked as she pushed away from the counter and traveled to the living room sofa, plopping down amongst the covers and pillows.

"I've bought myself some time—left a scarecrow on the throne. They probably won't notice I'm gone. They were still celebrating," Jareth said, settling down beside her.

Suddenly this all seemed a little _too_ cozy. But wasn't that what she wanted? A cozy day in?

Sarah aimed a sideways glance at Jareth. His mug was on the table next to hers, his eyes closed as he slouched on her sofa.

"My toes are quite nice," Sarah said suddenly.

The Goblin King opened one eye, just a little bit. "I'm sure they are," he opened both eyes, his languid gaze deceptive. She could feel the sudden awareness her words had kindled.

Sarah leaned toward him, brushed a feather-light kiss across his lips.

"Are you teasing me?"

She didn't get a chance to reply. The Goblin King had yanked her foot out from under the cover and removed her fuzzy sock.

"These are certainly not the toes of a toe-wrestling champion, but I bet they are ticklish."

His smile was positively devilish.

Maybe cozy wasn't what she'd wanted after all.


End file.
